by Irina Vérène
meet me
under the celestial croissant
with its ridged crispy dough
and cream-colored insides
dreamy craters
perfect for scooping up space
like blueberry jam
edible stardust
speckled throughout
by Irina Vérène
meet me
under the celestial croissant
with its ridged crispy dough
and cream-colored insides
dreamy craters
perfect for scooping up space
like blueberry jam
edible stardust
speckled throughout
by Gillian Fletcher
Apartment hunting in The Netherlands is an adventure, to say the least. If you read about it online, it sounds like non-stop madness riddled with scammers, false hopes, and broken dreams.
So far, it’s only a little bit like that.
Read More »by Wing Yau
One day you’ll wake up
when the black threads of your sewn heart
entangled like chained demisemiquavers
in an epic theme song.
Up in the sky you’ll sing:
“Happiness is not too high
when it’s upside down
like rain.”
by Nitika Balaram
Yesterday in my Arabic class
I learnt how to say
En-naes betmoot fi kol makaen
Ana za3laena wa alby beyo3ga3ni
People are dying everywhere
I’m sad and my heart hurts
by Cally Lim
It is not your fault, my child, but I have a confession:
This whole thing is increasingly an irrition on us both.
by Josh Young
The bacon and hashbrowns sizzled. The dishes
and forks in the sink bickered with each other as
they were carelessly dropped in a soapy bath.
The fluorescent lights pummeled my eyes in
sharp contrast to the outside where rain drizzled
in the dreary night.
by Charlotte Deason Robillard
When I was somewhere around age 8 or 9 – still homeschooled, living in rural Alabama, and mostly wearing thrift store clothes and hand-me-downs from my cousin – I meticulously put together an outfit I was proud of. Basing my vision off of whatever snippets of pop culture I’d been exposed to – Nickelodeon on the cable TV at my grandmother’s house, my best friend’s occasional copies of Tiger Beat – I pulled together a study in plum: purple jean shorts, a purple paisley oversized t-shirt, and a purple-hued tapestry vest. Since I didn’t go to school and I couldn’t wear jean shorts to church, the only obvious place to debut my outfit was homeschool day at the local roller skating rink. Despite my general lack of athletic ability, I was pretty good at skating, and I was excited to cruise around the rink in my fly new ‘fit. But my outfit was too avant-garde for the Pelham, Alabama homeschool crowd, and I soon had my first experience of bullying. Two girls (who I envision in the bland but popular Umbros and Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts of the era) shoved me and snickered about my clothes as they whizzed by me in a fit of giggles. I don’t remember what they said, but I remember being hurt and confused. I was the one who was dressed cool, right? I had seen vests and oversized t-shirts on TV, and I’d so carefully paired each color and pattern. This was my first introduction to conformity, and while my feelings were hurt, my taste for getting dressed up had not been stifled.
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